


Angels in Ganache

by White Queen Writes (fhartz91)



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Don't copy to another site, Established Relationship, Fluff, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Ineffable Lovers, M/M, No Sexual Content, Post-Canon, Romance, anniversary dinner, food and foreplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-23
Updated: 2020-04-23
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:42:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23806318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fhartz91/pseuds/White%20Queen%20Writes
Summary: While their friends help them celebrate their anniversary over dinner, Aziraphale and Crowley slip away to enjoy dessert by themselves ...
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 86





	Angels in Ganache

“Cr---Crowley? D-dear?” Aziraphale tilts his head and lifts his chin, giving his husband room to lay kisses down his neck.

“Yes, angel?” Crowley murmurs, pinching the tail of Aziraphale’s bow tie between his teeth and _slowly_ tugging it loose.

“Do you think they’ll notice … hmm … that we’ve gone?”

They’d slipped out during cocktails. They didn’t excuse themselves when they left. There was no need. They’d only gone back to their room for a moment. They were coming right back.

They didn’t get far. 

Three steps into their hotel room, they realized they couldn’t wait.

They’d even left the door open.

Crowley knew before Aziraphale. He came prepared.

As in he absconded with a room service cart some poor (now unconscious) member of the hotel staff had been pushing down the hall.

Right as Aziraphale asked him, “My dear, what on earth did you take that for? Not that I’m complaining …” Crowley shoved Aziraphale up against the nearest wall, pinned him with his body, and captured the angel’s mouth with his own.

Crowley hums while he considers his husband’s question, his fingers busy slipping buttons through their holes, carefully peeling Aziraphale’s waistcoat from his torso. “Oh yeah.” He snickers. “Of course they’re gonna notice, angel. After all, it’s …”

“... _our_ anniversary they’re celebrating in the restaurant downstairs,” Aziraphale cuts in with a guilty whine.

Crowley smiles at the sound of his husband’s utter desperation. He takes things a step further, gently burning a tiny trail along Aziraphale’s collarbone with the fork of his tongue.

“They’ll forgive us,” he whispers, leaning temptation into his words as his hands make their way down to Aziraphale’s waist, pulling up the hem of his shirt and working those buttons through their holes as well.

“And if … and if they don’t?” Aziraphale’s voice falters when Crowley reaches skin and starts raining kisses down his chest.

“Ngk. Too bad then,” Crowley says, but only because he knows their friends’ hearts. They’re good, kind, decent people … for the most part, as is the way with humans.

They’ll forgive them no matter what.

Knowing Madame Tracy, not only has she already figured them out, she’s explained their absence to everyone. And dammit if they all didn’t expect it … _and_ approve.

Crowley pauses to meet his husband’s eyes, Aziraphale shuddering when Crowley’s pupils narrow to slits. Crowley reaches for the room service cart parked by his hip. With his middle finger, he scoops up a dollop of ganache from a silver bowl. Aziraphale watches, breath quickening as his husband offers the chocolate to his angel, slips the finger between his lips.

Crowley moans loudly when Aziraphale licks and sucks the confection off.

“Dinner was for them,” Crowley says, kissing Aziraphale’s lower lip, chasing the taste of chocolate on his tongue, “but dessert is for us. It’s _always_ been for us.”

“And … what _is_ for dessert?” Aziraphale asks.

Crowley grins, wide and shameless, like a tomcat with cream on its lips. “ _You_.”


End file.
